


Risk Everything

by MayaPenn



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Supernatural Elements, mash - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaPenn/pseuds/MayaPenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU:  Bash and Mary try to survive amidst the confusion at court; Francis becomes more irrational. Starting directly after Bash and Mary's kiss in s01e05 "A Chill in the Air", in which Mary and Bash don't push each other away and Francis and Mary do not make up. It will diverge greatly from storyline with possible supernatural elements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mary, Confused

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M for intended sexual activity later in the story, violence, and language. I'll probably change it to explicit when the time comes. This fic will start out following a general plotline from the show and then take a wild turn sometime, I'm sure of it. Definite supernatural elements will come later.

Mary scrambled away from the rock on the edge of the lake, clutching her stomach and trying to ignore the weight of his eyes on her back. She felt bile rise up in her throat from a combination of an excess of wine and adrenaline. Her footsteps grew more frantic and her scramble turned into a sprint. The folds of the long dress caused her to stumble more than once, but her fear and excitement drove her forward. Shouts and laughter drifted from the pavilions and tables set up near the water to host the party; Mary could not bear to return and escaped from the expecting eyes of her four ladies-in-waiting. The soft flats she wore thudded on the stairs as she ran past bewildered looking guards into her chambers. Finally, she collapsed on the bed and fully absorbed what she had done.

The guilt, the excitement, the fear, all of it, was coursing through her. The wine was making her dizzy and she was afraid she might faint. Mary resolved herself and calmed her breathing, _'I am the Queen of Scots. Whatever I choose to do, I must choose it as Queen.'_ Mary had never asked for her queenhood, but she always clung to her duty in times of confusion, and this time was no different. At last, the tension flew from her body as a ship's sails deflating. She cleared her head and licked her lips, ready to make a decision. But that was a mistake; she could still taste him there, the flavor of his lips. Mary's hand began to shake again, but she stopped it abruptly and centered herself. Her mind paid no heed and drifted back to Sebastian.

_'Sebastian…Bash,'_ her eyes began to sting with guilt, _'that poor, sweet boy.'_ But the way he had kissed her had been neither poor nor sweet, nor had it been done like a boy. Indeed, compared to Sebastian, Francis seemed like a child playing at being a man. Francis towered over Mary when they had kissed, grabbing her face and kissing her like he was pouring his soul into her; his spirit had choked and shoved her. Francis kissed her like he could not live without her, but not because of his love. Francis' gaze, as well as his touch, had always been full of expectation, even when they were children together. Mary and Francis had never had the luxury of just love, yes, there was love, but to Francis, Mary was the pathway to power, wealth, kinghood, and heirs. Their marriage would never be about just love. Francis expected so much of her and Mary is not sure she's ready to give it.

Sebastian, on the other had, was a different story. His touch was strong, but never domineering. Mary sensed his desire for her, but she knew he could survive without her. Sebastian had always been strong and so apt at accepting rejection. When his father rejected him as his heir, when his mother told him he couldn't stay in the same wing of the castle as Francis, and now, surely, as his brother will reject him when he finds out Mary and Bash have shared a kiss, for Francis was always the jealous type. Bash's rejection was the source of Mary's guilt; Francis, she decided, did not deserve her remorse. An illicit kiss was no match for his blatant adultery with Olivia, pre-marriage or not. Mary must tell Bash nothing could come of this, she was loath to lead him on. Mary did not feel like it was leading him on though. Prior to their kiss, such a short time ago, she thought of Bash as handsome and loyal and lonely, but the kiss had blown away the fog of Francis' power over her and she realized her heart was split. Francis had been a dam in her heart that was splintering ever since she had arrived at court, and now the deluge had come and the fondness Mary felt for Bash had come with it out of hiding.

Quite awhile had passed while Mary lie on her bed, surrounded by pillows pressing on every side, but the cold still crept into her. The last thing Mary wanted to do was hurt Bash, especially since she realized how blind she was to her own feelings, but she must. She could not let it go on. Her ladies would be wanting after her by now.


	2. Bash, Elated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be short, but I wanted to setup the stage and get the character's perspectives on the Mash encounter all out in the open. Thanks for reading!

Mary had huffed off, leaving Bash to stare after her as she hurried across the lawn. Once he saw her hit the castle doors, he sprung from his perch. He began to pace back and forth along the bank of the river. Mary's last words lingered in his ears: a mistake, that's what she called it. Even so, the joy Sebastian had been suppressing for Mary's sake burst through in an almost violent manner. Bash wrung his hands together, worrying at the sweaty skin. _'There is hope!'_ Bash could not stop a boyish grin from slapping itself on to his face, but he quickly remembered himself and returned to his steely demeanor, glancing around to make sure no one saw his slip. Sebastian thought he saw something disappear into the forest, but brushed it off; he had more important things to think about. 

Like Mary's lips, and how she had kissed him first. How her breath smelled of alcohol and the way her lips were stained with sweet summer wine. He remembered how she had pulled away with an apology on her tongue, but fell into his embrace when he had not let her escape so quickly. Bash kept thinking on where he went wrong; she had stretched her hand up to caress his face, he was sure of it, but instead she ripped him away and fluttered off like a scared bird. The most interesting part of their encounter, he decided, was when Mary had implied she was unhappy in her engagement. _'There is even more hope than I had thought.'_ Sebastian's steps had halted at the thought of kissing Mary, but resumed with a more vigorous pace when thinking about his way into her life. Not to say he had been lying in wait for this exact moment, but he could see she would never be able to flourish with Francis, the entitled Dauphin.

Sebastian realized he must be persistent in his love for her; she would try to stop it before it ever really began, but he would not let her. Though the almost religious power Francis had over the Queen of Scots had weakened, his grasp ran deep. Bash had glimpsed who Mary might become if Francis did not whittle away at her spirit, one mistress at a time. After their initial kiss, Mary's eyes were like fire, a passion he had not seen in her since they were children and Bash intended to keep it there.

On impulse, Sebastian swiveled himself around and took off towards the castle; he could show Mary before her mind was made up to end it. He would show her his love would never be so fickle as her fiancé's. But Bash stopped himself not half way across the lawn. How would it look to Mary if he comes running to her side so quickly? So needy and expecting, 'Just like Francis', Bash surmised. Mary deserved to think on this by herself, she needed to want Bash on her own time. He slowly turned and began to pound his boots in the direction of the stables with much effort, as if his feet were lead and his heart panged him every step he took further away from Mary. He would ride until nightfall, then he would go to her.


	3. Mary, Worried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some slightly different dialogue/events happening that didn't happen in the show, but I'm not ready to make a huge divergence yet. Anyway, I'm writing this stuff every chance I get so expect quick updates for awhile. Enjoy!

Mary walked with her ladies through the tree-studded lawn with a slew of other nobles, every single one dressed in their finest. King Henry was returning today and she, as a Queen, was required to greet him. The French court had worried at her nerves; between Kenna and the king's torrid affair, the kiss with Bash, the necklace this morning she found on her pillow, and, most of all, the encounter she had with Francis last afternoon when she had left her chambers. Mary remembered it painfully.

Mary had found the pavilions being stripped and the boating materials being collected by servants when she reached the lake's edge. Francis lingered there with Olivia, every laugh and smile exchanged was a bitter knife in Mary's heart. She stood some distance away, and as the last effects of the wine wore off it left her stomach and mind sour. _'Francis, may I have a word?'_ The couple lifted their heads and Francis' expression changed quickly from surprise to anger. He whispered a few words in Olivia's ear, leaving her with a touch on the waist and began to make his way to Mary, movements tight and robotic.

_'Your Majesty,'_ he spat out, it made Mary flinch.

_'Francis,'_ she pleaded, _'I am sorry I could not make it to send my ship off with you. I had too much wine and-'_ The Dauphin held up a hand to silence her and shook his head before letting his words fallout, like acid to burn Mary's skin.

_'I do not care what you do with your time, but never, ever, embarrass me like you did today.'_ The Queen of Scots began to stutter out another apology but the future king of France would not let her finish. _'If you are to be the Queen of France, you need to learn to respect me. I will not be laid low by some foreign Queen. Do you understand?'_

His words were all very formal, but the sneer on his features told his words did not come as a king, but as a boy hoping to strong-arm his equal. The feelings of guilt and fear washed out of Mary, being replaced with a white-hot rage, but she kept her composure and pushed her ire down. _'Yes Francis, I understand.'_

Francis nodded his approval and passed Mary, his shoulder shoving her out of his path. She turned so she could throw mean looks at his back as he walked away, but he stopped several steps ahead and spoke so quietly, Mary strained to hear, _'Do you know what I wrote on my boat today?'_ Of course, Mary couldn't have, she had been hiding in her chambers, but Francis turned expecting an answer anyway.

_'N-no, I do not.'_

Francis smiled at her, but it was not kind. He stomped over so she could see his face illuminated, the dusk light glinting off his teeth; Mary fancied he looked like some wild, beautiful beast. _'My only regret is that I did not bring Olivia back to court sooner.'_ If Mary had not been wounded and angry before, she was now. Francis, his smile growing broader at Mary's crestfallen face, whipped himself around and began his trek to the castle, with a bounce in his step it seemed to Mary. After that, Mary had felt the sting of tears creep into her eyes; she rubbed them and returned to her quarters for a fitful night of rest.

Mary snapped back to the present when she saw Bash's figure strolling leisurely under the tress. As always, he seemed as if he'd rather be somewhere else, but the king was his father after all. Mary's legs shook from the urge to run to him, but she glided over as she thought a real Queen would. As she neared, she saw signs of exhaustion under his eyes and the pale gleam of sweat on his brow, a peculiarity, especially on a cool day like this. Mary could not spare his feelings in this though, Francis was right, she needed to act like his future Queen even if she thought him irrational. "Sebastian, we need to discuss something."

The sudden upward curve of his lips threw Mary off guard. He had smiled at her before, no doubt, but now it held more weight, the weight of a shared secret. The thought made Mary's heart beat faster, but it also made her insides twist; she needed to end it, not fantasize about him. "That kiss…"

"I remember it," his voice sounded like a tease and his teeth flashed at her. Despite his troubled appearance his subtle charm had not diminished, which made the experience even more painful for the Queen of Scots.

Mary could not suppress a smirk from creeping on to her face, "I was a bit drunk, and you were too, weren't you?" she said accusingly.

"Would you like me to share in your remorse? Would that make you feel better?"

_'No.'_ Mary thought to herself. She wanted him to say it was the best kiss he had ever had and that he wanted more, that he wished to kiss her everyday, endlessly. Mary lied instead, "Yes, it would."

Bash's playfulness disappeared almost immediately and he said, tight lipped, "I regret that you are engaged to my brother, a brother I consider my friend, and who thankfully doesn't know what happened."

Mary let her heart feel the slightest amount of joy. Bash deftly avoided saying he regretted kissing her, only that the situation left something to be desired, which she agreed with. "Bash, I have to make things up with him, I'm not sure if I want to, but I need to, you understand, don't you?" Mary chided herself internally. _'I've said too much. If he even suspects my feelings for Francis have paled, he will surely pursue me.'_

But Bash, ever the gentleman, ignored her choice of words except with a longing glance, "Of course. What I don't understand is why we're still talking about this."

His words left Mary feeling sad and empty, but there were still questions. "Because of your gift," she said expectantly, "the necklace!"

Sebastian halted his steps and turned to face her, his pallid features more stark against the green of the trees than ever, "What necklace?"

Embarrassment flushed her body, "Oh…" Of course Bash hadn't given her a gift, _'How could I be so stupid? It was just a drunken kiss, nothing more.'_ She felt like a child in her to her thoughts, Bash raised his eyebrows and his face lit up, bringing back that teasing tone from the start of their conversation that made Mary's cheeks feel warm. "I assumed- I thought…it was in my room this morning."

Though Mary is sure Bash meant it to sound incredulous, she could hear the suppressed laugh in his next words, "You think I snuck into your room?"

_'Yes, because I wish you had,'_ but Mary quickly stopped her mind from wandering further. "I didn't know what to think! After our kiss…" she trailed off and thought of the way her lips tingled when she remembered their moments together. Mary quickly presented the necklace to Sebastian, hoping his thoughts on it might tame her own. Mary could see the startled look on his face while his eyes darted around the grounds.

"What is it?" Mary offered, hoping to get some information out of him. She did not like seeing him so distressed, especially when she knew she was the source of all his anxiety.

"I've, uh, seen this necklace before."

"Really? Where?" And just as Bash was about to answer, she saw Francis arrive, late, of course, but she did not want another fight, especially when Francis seemed to be growing crueler by the day. The thought of leaving Bash's side to join Francis made her blood run cold, but she was reminded of her duty to Scotland and it's people. "Bash, I'm sorry. I must go." She trotted away to the sound of Bash calling her name. Mary refused to look back, knowing it would give both of them false hope.

"Francis, are you well?" Mary arrived at his side and did her best to sound cordial.

Francis, no doubt being the petty man he was, replied clipped and with a formal smile on his face, "I'm fine thank you."

"I wanted to apologize, again. About our argument, and about my-" Mary stopped, maybe it was best if she didn't mention his embarrassment, "offense," she finished.

"Oh, is that what your sorry about?" Francis was hiding something, she knew, something that made him seem more pompous and entitled than ever. But the arrival of the King's carriage saved her from the conversation.


	4. Bash, Panicked

Sebastian’s heart beat quicker and his legs jittered uncomfortably. The pointless posturing of his father and mother as they set foot on the lawn made Bash impatient. He kept his eye on the back of Mary’s head; the thought of her safety was the only thing on his mind. He had regretted not going to Mary’s room last night as planned, for his encounter had truly shaken him, but he thanked God that she got a final night’s rest before becoming involved in the mess he had made.  


Eventually, the royal party stomped off and Bash grabbed Mary’s arm before she could follow, whispering into her ear. “Mary, we need to talk. It’s important.” He couldn’t help but notice the strands of hair that tickled his face, or the fact that she smelled like lemons today. Bash jerked himself away from her body and caught Francis staring at him with his normal haughty grin, except this time it was tinged with anger. _‘Could he know?’_ Bash’s heart dropped, but Francis turned and continued trailing behind Queen Catherine and Bash felt a weight lift. _‘No, we were by the lake, and he was with Olivia, no doubt.’_

“What is it, Bash? Is it about the necklace?” Bash could recognize the concern in her voice and her searching eyes, but he was not sure if it was concern for him or her own safety; it made his heart flutter either way.

“Yes, come with me.” Instinctively, he took her hand and led her to a corridor just inside the east wing. He stopped to face her, suddenly aware they were still connected and she was not protesting. Their eyes met; Bash felt a blush creep up his neck and his hand became clammy. Mary’s skin was warm and soft and Bash wanted nothing more than to trace his thumb along hers. Her gaze was full of anticipation and Bash longed to see it under different circumstances, but, instead, he released her. Bash needed to focus. Mary’s safety was at stake and he would never risk her. 

“Mary, that necklace…” his voice fell flat, unsure where to start. Mary offered it up to him, hoping it would help. Bash reached out and set his palm over hers, the necklace resting in between. He let his fingers graze her wrist before plucking the necklace from her hand, and he was sure he felt electricity in that moment. Mary turned her eyes away and Bash did not fail to notice her rubbing the spot where he had lingered.  


Sebastian wanted to make sure, absolutely sure, that he was not mistaken before giving Mary anything to worry about. The necklace swung ominously in front of his face and his spirit sunk. _‘There’s no mistaking it. This is the butcher boy’s.’_ A rush of air escaped his lips, a breath Bash didn’t know he was holding.  


“Sebastian, what is it?” Mary leaned in closer, her hand brushing his sleeve and her voice falling to a whisper, “Please, tell me.” The ability to form coherent thoughts seemed to leave Bash with the onset of so many worries: Mary’s proximity, the possibility of her harmed, and the thought of having to kill a man…  


“Last night I was…visited by the butcher boy who was wearing that necklace. You’ve heard of his fall?” Mary nodded in confirmation and to urge him on. “The people of his faith claim that I owe them a debt. More than once, I’ve interrupted their blood sacrifices. The butcher boy said that if I did not choose someone else to sacrifice, they’d choose for me.”  


Mary’s eyes darkened. Her voice came out a low timbre, “So that’s what’s been going on in the woods. Pagan sacrifice.” She lifted her chin, as if accepting a challenge, “And now they’ve chosen me.” Bash noticed the corners of her mouth curve down as she realized the weight of the situation. “Choose someone else. They want you to kill someone.”  


Bash’s stomach twisted in knots when he looked at Mary’s horror stricken face, her wide unbelieving eyes. He lost all formalities, all air of pretending he did not care for her. He felt himself grabbing her hands and leaning over her, “None of that matters now, Mary. What matters is your safety,” he pleaded.  


Words tumbled from Mary’s mouth in a rush to change the subject, “Maybe the servants saw how the necklace got into my room. I’ll question them.” Mary turned and was twisting out of his grasp when Bash squeezed her palm tighter.  


“Mary,” he called after her. His tongue felt heavy and the guilt building up in him needed an escape. “I’m sorry,” he said dully. A forlorn smile flickered across Mary’s lips but was gone as quick as she. Sebastian was left to stare at the empty space where she had rounded the corner, the echo of her shoes still reverberating in the hall.  


The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by Sebastian’s ragged breathing. A fist slammed the wall, startling a guard posted outside some noble’s door some way down the corridor. Bash swept through a side door before he could be asked after and began to make his way to his mother’s new quarters, having been displaced by his father once again.  


Diane de Poitiers sat quietly at her desk looking over some papers when her son burst through the door. She jumped a bit but relaxed once she saw it was only Bash that had brazenly entered her new home. “Mother we need to talk.” Bash didn’t know if she was ignoring the urgency in his voice or she truly did not notice it. Her eyes wandered back to her reading and a hand waved at an empty chair near by. Sebastian’s teeth clenched, but he sat down nonetheless. “It’s about the blood wood, mother.”  


The shuffling of her papers halted, he knew that would get her attention. Her eyes rose to meet his expectantly and pushed him to continue. Bash had no time for niceties, “I cut down a sacrifice, a man, and now I must choose another to sacrifice or they will kill Mary.”  


Diane’s sigh was exasperated and all of a sudden made her sound older than she was, “What do you intend to do Sebastian?”  


“Do they really think I could drag some innocent into the woods and slaughter them?” he scoffed out.  


“Could you, to save yourself?”  


“No!” Bash almost cried. He was no murderer he would not kill needlessly.  


“But to save Mary?” His mother’s eyes seemed to search him for some truth, some reaction she could surely cling to; even Diane de Poitiers, displaced mistress of the King, knew the importance of Mary’s place in France. Bash’s mouth hung open, another denial hanging heavy on his tongue, but if he said no he would be lying. He would do anything for Mary.  


Bash grappled with his tongue for control and ripped his eyes from his mother’s face, “I don’t understand how you ever worshipped along side these savages.”  


Now it was Diane’s turn to look away; it was a cruel thing Bash did, he knew she did not like to speak of it. “I was young. It was a different faith,” her words sounded suspiciously like excuses. Bash did not hear his mother apologize for things often. “We worshipped the natural world, sacrifice was only a very small part of it, it was not _human_ ,” she insisted.  


“Do they consider me one of them because of you?” Bash did not mean for it to come out like an accusation, but it did anyway.  


“I don’t know. The larger question is what people here in the castle would consider you, if they knew.”  


Sebastian’s eyes widened in disbelief, “I’m Catholic! I practice my father’s religion, as do you.” It pained Bash to be included into a group that threatened Mary. His jaw muscles tightened and he began to grind his teeth together in anger.  


“Have no illusions. If they learned about my past we would both burn as heretics,” her voice became more demanding, “You live here at your father’s will and some day your brothers. Do not covet his future wife.” Diane’s voice dripped with a forced amusement, “Even the laws of your chosen faith are clear on that.”  


Bash’s voice became hardened and insistent, “Mary is in danger because of me.”  


“And Francis will surely find out.”  


“If anything happened to her-”  


“He will blame _you_.”  


Sebastian pushed himself out of the chair and paced in his mother’s chambers. He was sweaty with panic and he was angry. Angry with himself, the pagans, his mother, Francis, and the situation this engagement put him in.  


“So, that’s my choice. Choose someone to kill or let them kill Mary.” But it was no choice at all; Bash knew which path he would choose.  


Diane could see how hurt Bash was, but her next words were not kind, “It’s only a matter of time, now that they’ve marked her. Pay the debt, and then harden your heart against her.” It came as a command, not a request.  


Bash took another moment to look his mother over before grabbing the door handle to exit her home. If his mother only knew, Bash’s heart could not be hardened against Mary; Mary was his heart. She filled every corner, every crevice. To harden his heart would be to rip it from his chest. He leaned on the wall outside of the door and took a few strained breaths. Bash’s mind was made: he would not let Mary die for his mistakes.  


A burning in his chest set Bash’s feet in motion once more. He needed to find her before he burnt up from worry. He needed to tell her it would be all right. Bash remembered the alarm in her eyes; he must quell her anxiety. His feet took him to the upper levels of the castle on the floor of her chambers. Sebastian barely remembered his travel there, though it must have taken him a good while. Thoughts of Mary clouded his sense of time or place. He hoped he would catch her done with questioning the servants.  


Bash reached her chamber doors, two guards posted on either side which told him Mary was in there. Before Bash could throw the doors open in a fit of passion, the guards stopped him, insisting on announcing his presence. Sebastian waited uncomfortably as the guard called out his name, “Sebastian de Poitiers, your Grace.”  


“He can enter,” he heard her say. Bash could not measure her mood from her voice just yet, the doors and the clink of the guards armor muffled it. The guard exited her room and ushered him in. Bash nodded at him in thanks before making sure the door clicked shut and locked behind him. His hand felt glued to the handle, preventing him from turning around and facing Mary again. But he ripped himself away and turned.  


“Sebastian,” her voice was strained with fear and the smile she wore was forced, “what brings you here? It’s not often you come visit my chambers.” She knew why Bash was here and she knew why he did not come to her chambers, but she kept chattering away, “I was just going to read some. I wasn’t sure what to read but I’ve finally decided on a book.”  


“Mary,” Bash did not want to avoid the subject any longer, “I came to talk about the necklace.” Mary’s posturing fled from her body and she collapsed with a thud into her desk chair. The smile was gone and left a tight frown in its place, lines forming at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were red and she began to fiddle with the bodice of her gown. Yet, even like this, Sebastian could not help but love her. Mary looked worn and weak and like she could do with a bath and some food, but Bash noticed how soft her skin looked and how there was still the fire in her eyes from days ago. He averted his gaze to the floor and cleared his throat.  


Mary lifted her eyes from her feet and looked up at him, “You shouldn’t be here Bash,” the use of his nickname, as if they were close friends, lifted his spirits some, “The guards and the servants will gossip.”  


“You’re being paranoid,” he responded, in a voice that he prayed came off as light-hearted.  


“Do I not have things to be paranoid about?” she said exasperated, “The necklace, Queen Catherine, Francis’ strange behavior.”  


_‘But not me. You never have to worry about me.’_ Sebastian wanted to blurt out his devotion to her, to pledge his sword and life to her willingly, but now was not the time. Bash feared there would never be a time.  


“Yes, those are all dangers here at court, but me being in your chambers is hardly gossip worthy.” Bash forced his voice to lilt and lose some of the seriousness from their conversation in the hall, “No one knows about-” _‘us’_ , “about the lake side.”  


Mary looked up ashamed and sad, “You’re right, I’m sorry, Bash. I’m just so nervous.” She continued to tamper with her gown more vigorously.  


Bash was by her side in a few strides, kneeling below his Queen, and resting his hand on her shaking fingers, “Mary, I’m here, I’m going to take care of it.” She did not lift her half-lidded eyes from their touching hands. Mary’s other hand came to rest on top of his, and his soul sung so loudly within him, Bash was sure she would hear it.  


“Oh, Bash.”


	5. Mary and Bash, Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Bash share a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, hey team. Sorry for my year and a half hiatus? This is just a little blurb of a chapter so see if anyone out there is interested and to see if I still got it. Not long by any means, just something to whet your appetite as well as to warm me up. I sat down and planned a bit of the plot from here onwards, so hopefully I'll keep up with it! I'm off school for another month and should have time. Also, shout out to fire1, because reading their comments actually made me pick this back up. And thanks for all the kudos, I rly appreciate it everyone!

Previously:

_Bash was by her side in a few strides, kneeling below his Queen, and resting his hand on her shaking fingers, “Mary, I’m here, I’m going to take care of it.” She did not lift her half-lidded eyes from their touching hands. Mary’s other hand came to rest on top of his, and his soul sung so loudly within him, Bash was sure she would hear it._

_“Oh, Bash.”_

 

Mary’s overwhelming anxiety felt like a stone pressing on her heart, trapping her under it like a wounded animal. Tears stung her eyes and she dared not move them from their touching hands. The shame she felt at crying in front of Bash was nearly too much to bear. Nevertheless, she knew she wouldn’t want to spend this moment with anyone else. Only he understood the true severity of the situation, and not even he could boast the knowledge of how to fix it.

“Oh, Bash,” she whispered again.

As quickly as his heart had soared, Bash was tumbling back to Earth. He felt the wetness from her tears fall upon his hand and he knew she was crying. Instinctively almost, he drew himself closer. Removing his other hand from where it rested on the hilt of his sword, he cupped her cheek, tears still streaming down it.

“Mary, please do not worry. You have my word. I will protect you, no matter what the cost.” His eyes searched her face still down turned from embarrassment, but she would not meet his gaze.

“Don’t you see? That is the problem. You cannot kill someone in my place!”

Bash jumped from the sudden forcefulness of her words, involuntarily pulling away his hands from her body. Mary took this as encouragement that he was finally understanding her fears. Her sense of duty, to her people as well as to Bash, would not let someone be a sacrifice. As the flow of her tears increased, she nearly yelled.

“You cannot take an innocent life. Murder, Sebastian! I forbid it.”

Mary rose from her desk, giving Bash no choice but to flinch backwards, losing balance on his knee and land in an awkward heap on the floor of Mary, Queen of Scots’ chambers. She looked, from his place below, as if descended from the fury of heaven in her elaborate white dress with her face red and wet from the intensity of her devotion. All he could do was stutter at out her name like a prayer,

“Ma-Mary, I…”

Seeing the mess she had again caused, the passion vanished from Mary’s body; she felt as empty as the shells she would collect near her convent home. She collapsed to her knees with a single wail, from angel to suppliant in an instant, begging Bash to forgive her ire. She grasped his boots and sobbed, “Bash, Bash, Bash, why am I not stronger?” over and over again.

Bash slid his feet away and instead replaced them with his shoulders. It was all Mary could do: squeeze her arms around his neck and let it out. Bash held her shaking ribcage in his arms, hoping to offer comfort for his Queen. He reflected on Mary’s journey and did not envy her status. From Scotland to convent, where a poisoner ran amok, then on to France, where her betrothed was more interested in his old lover than his own fiancé, and threatened at every turn by her future mother-in-law, the most powerful woman in France. _‘Now this, now I have brought this curse upon her. She is so strong.’_ Sebastian felt his own eyes being to burn with emotion and let eventually let his regret tumble down his face.

“You are so strong, Mary.”


End file.
